Seminars I'd Like to Attend

NOTE:  I spent 45 minutes writing this post, hit Publish, and an error message came up and said, "Sorry!" and it was gone.  So now I'm re-writing what I can remember from it, but just understand that the first one was probably brilliant and would've led to a book deal.  This one?  Meh.

A couple of years ago, I was fortunate enough to attend the Erma Bombeck Writing Workshop.  It was pretty awesome.  I met Christian Lander of "Stuff White People Like" fame, Danny Gallagher the comedian and writer, Gail Collins of the New York Times and author of the amazing book, "When Everything Changed", and some pretty kick-ass chicks as well, including Janet Frongillo, author of the upcoming book, "Mommy Mixology", available for pre-order on amazon.com.

Seriously, "A Cocktail for every Calamity"?  That's just brilliant.

EBWW is only held every two years, and sadly, I can't go this year because I now have a full-time job that seriously impedes me from doing fun things.  I know Janet will be there, and so will The Bearded Iris, who is completely hilarious and has some mad effing dance skills.  On April 19, which is my birthday, I will be sitting down to watch my lovely daughter on opening night of her high school musical, knowing in my heart that Iris and Janet and loads of awesome mom bloggers will be tucking into their first round of drinks.  Of course, I wouldn't be anywhere else but the musical with Oldest Daughter.  But a tiny little part of my heart will be sad.

(I also spent about 20 minutes on picnik making an awesome graphic with a human heart showing how much of it would be sad and thirsty, but that wouldn't load.  Pisser!)

Since I can't attend EBWW, I am concentrating on what types of educational enrichment opportunities I should find for myself.  After ten minutes of introspection, I've come up with this list of Self-Help Seminars I Should Attend In 2012:

1. Past the Power Button:  How To Use Your Computer
2. Beyond the Basket:  Getting Family to Fold Within 48 Hours of the Dryer
3. Vegetarian Cooking, Or How To Make Food Look Like It
4. Vaccum Cleaner Shopping:  Not An Annual Activity
5. Sheets, And How They're Changed More Than Six Times A Year
6. When The Dog Knows Too Much
7. High Noon:  After Five Years, It's Time to Move On From Twilight
8. How To Operate Your Husband of 17 years
9. Making Your Malbec Bottle Last Three Days So You Don't Look Like An Alcoholic
10. Getting More Personal Time Out of Work Time
11. Speaking Teen...Whatever.

If anyone knows where I can sign up for any of these workshops, I would appreciate the link.  If you have any of your own, please add in comments (Such as:  How To Get Blogger To Post Your Damn Comments).  Otherwise, I'll hold these in my house and wing it.  Registration begins June 1. 

I'm Addicted to Twitter and Jen Hates Me

I'm in a sunny meadow with technicolor grass and trees.  I'm chasing a little blue bird...come back, little bird, come back!...and I can't get enough.  It's as though the little bird is Red Bull and Vodka and I'm Lindsay Lohan.  Then I see people wandering in the meadow and I tell them "Follow me!!!" and most of them look at their watches and turn away (I'm talking to YOU, Jen Lancaster!  But with great respect and optimism...) but a few of them say "What the hell..." and follow me.  Suddenly, the bright sunny day with the little bluebird goes dark, and I hear CH's voice, far far away, saying, "Oh crap, we've lost our internet connection!" and I wake up, screaming.

 I should have known from its vacant eyes it was a junkie bird.

It's interesting I would pick up this new Internet crack rock at the Erma Bombeck thing.  Lesson?  Drugs are everywhere, kids.  Everyone kept saying "You need to be on Twitter...all writers should be Tweeting...." and so I did (remember @juliethewife - join me in the opium den!).  JUST like I got a big comb with "JULIE" on the handle for the back pocket of my Jordache jeans in 1982.  JUST like I got my hair cut in the Flock of Seagulls style, with one side shaved, in 1984 (I do have a picture, and if I had another hour I would find it).  JUST like I wore oversized button-down shirts and HUGE sweatshirts with leggings and sprayed my hair five inches off of my scalp in 1988.

Damn you, social trends.  You are my kryptonite.

So now, instead of writing like I should, I am spending a huge amount of time on Twitter, because I have to learn.  I am like Neo in The Matrix when they hook him up to learn about flying helicopters and kung fu and heavy weaponry (except it's Twitter stuff, like birdies and the @ # keys).  Here is the convo Current Husband and I had this morning:

CH:  "Hey, could you call the paper about that thing?"
ME:  "No, I have a ton of stuff to do today."
CH:  "Like what?"
ME:  (Indignant.)  "I have a ton of things to do.  I just told you that.  You totally don't respect my time or what I do around here."
CH:  "I just want to know what you have planned for today.  Just give me something."
ME:  "Writing."
CH:  "Writing what?"  
We sit in silence, looking at each other.
ME:  "ALRIGHT!  Posts on Twitter and Facebook, and maybe a blog entry.  Are you happy now?"
CH:  "Are Twitter and Facebook and the blog paying you?"
ME:  "No.  Only in cultural references and Trivial Pursuit 2010 answers."
CH:  "Then no.  I'm not happy now.  I would've thought that Jen Lancaster thing would have stopped you by now."

Et tu, Brute?  No sex for you, CH.  Let me tell you about the Jen Lancaster thing.

So I may have mentioned I attended the Erma Bombeck Writing Workshop.  Did I?  Okay, good.  And I may have mentioned in the past that I am completely stalking Jen Lancaster, (New York Times Bestselling author of the soon-to-be released My Fair Lazy, order now!)  So I meet these extremely funny women who happen to be excellent writers (whom I am featuring on the Facebook page this week, are you following A Day In The Wife on FB yet?) and we are all keeping in touch on Facebook and now Twitter.  The Monday after the conference, the Erma Bombeck people are all over the place, friending and following everyone they met.  It's a good thing you cannot get syphilis from the Internet, because everyone from Erma Bombeck would have it.  (I have to say that it feels so wrong to put the words "Erma Bombeck" and "syphilis" in the same sentence, but I learned from Wade Rouse, who is writing a dog book with Jen, by the way, that I am supposed to be honest and humorous in my writing, and I ask you, what is funnier than syphilis, people?)

Three of the women I met and myself are messaging back and forth, and I see that Jen Lancaster has a new post on her blog, titled "Such a Pretty Stalker", about her seeing Bob Harper from The Biggest Loser and stalking him.  Of course, a big light bulb goes off and I think, "Hey!  I bet my good friend Jen would LOVE to hear about how it's so funny that I happen to be stalking HER!"  

And this, my friends, is how restraining orders begin:

STEP 1:  Constantly comb the victim's Facebook, Twitter, and blog page for references to things you think you have in common.
STEP 2:  Immediately decide to get in touch.  Already sent three e-mails?  That is not enough.  Real stalkers go for multi-media platforms.
STEP 3:  Follow victim on Twitter.  Jen's is @altgeldshrugged.  Follow her, because I bet she will follow YOU.
STEP 4:  Send snarky message, such as 

"@altgeltshrugged I posted that I'm YOUR stalker on my 4-14 blog, www.adayinthewife.com. BTW, leave coffee grinds out of your garbage? Thx."

Oh yes, people.  I sent it.  But it gets worse.
So she isn't responding, and I'm all "But Jen, I get it!  We're buds!  You e-mailed me!" and I'm messaging with my Erma Chicks, and suddenly, MuffinTopMommy posts "Jen Lancaster is now following me on Twitter!  I can't believe it" and other stuff that was generally joyful, but the world spun around and when I came to, I looked on FB again, and ANOTHER one of the moms, Clare from It's All Good In The (Mother)Hood, has posted "She's following me on Twitter too!  I am so excited!"  And I am suddenly the girl who isn't going to prom and all of her friends are going.  And I have a dress and a secret bottle of Boone's Farm stashed for the Big Night, and I'm going to have to buy myself some flowers and drink it alone (well chilled, of course).  Because get this...

It was my birthday.  Sniff.  (shuffles feet.)

Let me hear it...the collective "Awwww".  Stalkers have birthdays too.  I kept thinking, "It's my birthday, I'm sure she will follow me.  It will be the pinnacle of my day."  Because:

STEP 5:  Stalkers should always assume the victim knows they exist.

I'm checking Twitter, and it's not happening.  So I look at my original post.  Hey!  What's that?  I SPELLED HER TWITTER NAME WRONG.  That must be it.  So what do I do?  I repost the same message to the right address.

Oh. Yes.  She.  Did.

Why?  Because:
STEP 6:  Good stalkers never quit.  Even after they serve their time.

So I send the post, AGAIN.  

crickets.  crickets.  crickets.

And to this very moment, Jen is still not following me on Twitter.  Even though she has over 14,000 followers and she is following over 13,000 people, and she describes herself as "an aggressive follower", I think I have actually freaked her out.  And really?  I'm not that scary, unless I am really drunk or you are a guy I want to date circa 1985-1991.

I have become the Dave to her Oprah.  The Matt Damon to her Jimmy Kimmel.  (I would normally put a third one in here, but I can't think of many stalking incidents that don't turn out badly.)  I am attending her book signing for My Fair Lazy (pre-order now!) on May 14 in Chicago, so Jen, I will be there.  Consider yourself warned.  And my friend and I have already made plans for a Liquid Lunch, and we are hooking up with the Chi Omegas from Iowa State (who saw my hair sprayed to the heavens; again, I have a photo, it's in the basement) and things might get a little loopy.  My friend has already told me that she is bringing her taser gun and plastic cuffs, and I have already told all of them I will need pictures of me being dragged away by security for the blog, so no worries my friends, it will be as though you are there with me.  Because I'm a giver that way.  I will set up a Paypal account so you can help me with bail if you feel so inclined.

ON A QUICK SIDE NOTE:  My friend made the hotel reservations, I was in charge of calling Borders to see if they are using wristbands for Jen's signing.  Called Borders on Michigan Ave.  Got automated system.  Hit 3 to hear store events.  The only one listed is Hulk Hogan appearing in October of 2009 and he will not sign memorabilia.  Figures, f***ing wrestlers.  Got through to sales rep, said "Jen Lancaster will be there on May 14, will this be a wristbanded event?"  Sales rep says, "uh, John Lencester?" and I say, "NO, J-E-N Lancaster.  She is signing books at your store on May 14."  "Oh. (pause) Let me go ask someone about that."  On hold for a long time.  "Um, we don't know anything about that event yet.  Call back a couple of days before and we should know something."  One would hope, honey.  One would hope.

SO.  You may be wondering, "What happened, Crazy Aunt Julie, how does the story end?"  (Or you may have stopped reading this post five days ago because it is so friggin' long.)  Let me tell you - this story has a happy ending.  After I spent my BIRTHDAY, which was my 41st and on a MONDAY and therefore a total FAIL, waiting for Jen Lancaster to friend me on Twitter, something good happened (other than meeting my blogger friends at Erma, which has been like manna from heaven).  I did get a famous friend.  The Bloggess, whom I love and respect and can only aspire to blog like her, followed me on Twitter.  And it made my entire week.   I love you, Jenny The Bloggess.  And I promise to never go through your garbage.

The End.  So tell me - what is your Twitter name?  Who are you stalking?  And finally, any suggestions on how I get Jen to follow me on Twitter?
UPDATE:
Jen is now following me on Twitter!!!  Yay me!  It's just like when Oprah went on Dave's show and was all "I didn't know you were stalking me, I have no idea what's going on."  So hopefully she doesn't read my blog and say, "Uh, yeah, UN-Follow!!!  TWITTER SECURITY, STAT!"  Now what the hell am I going to write about?  Candace Bushnell?  Are you out there?

Erma, Techno and Twitter

WHO:  The Wife.
WHAT:  Final report from Erma Bombeck Writing Conference
WHERE:  Quad Cities
WHEN: Monday, April 19, 11:02 p.m.
WHY:  It's over and it's just begun.

Let me take a moment to say that the Erma Bombeck Writing Conference was terrific, and I'm going back for the next one in two years.  It's the only humor writing conference in the country, and if you're into that sort of thing, it's a can't-miss opportunity.  I met so many funny people.  Lucky lucky me.

The speakers and instructors were all top-shelf, the Tanqueray in my tonic.  Bill Scheft, a writer for Letterman and the author of the book "Everything Hurts", was probably my favorite, but his publicist and a writer in her own right Nettie Hartsock was also terrific.  Gail Collins, NY Times columnist and author of "When Everything Changed", which is a must-read for every woman and her daughters, was amazing, and Christian Landers, author of "Stuff White People Like" was the Cinderella story, if Cindy was smart, snarky and had a razor-sharp wit and red beard.  Tracy Beckerman was great, Danny Gallagher was funny...It was all so, so good.  I'll be highlighting some of the mom blogs I found there on my Facebook fan page.  The first one this week is Janet from MuffinTopMommy.com, she is quite hilarious.

I am a little bit of a Techno-Granny.  Until recently, I rarely answered my cell phone.  I find cell phones annoying in that people don't seem to know when it is okay to use them.  I also don't love the idea of being available to everyone all the time.  If I'm in the bathroom at Starbucks, I'm not taking that call.  Then Oldest Daughter petitioned Current Husband for unlimited texting, and things changed.  I started texting people.  It was fun.  If you remember the tale of the U2 concert with CH last August, I sent about 40 texts, with only about 5 of them actually having any characters in them.  Welcome to 2010, Julie!

I learned something about myself on the trip to Dayton, Ohio - I am more techno than I thought, and I'm not just talking about dancing.  The first thing I realized as I drove into Illinois was that I left my cell phone charger at home.  I was now on borrowed time on the cell phone, and I had to turn it off.  Why?  Because I'd clearly need to use it in the back of an ambulance or in Ted Bundy's trunk.  No cell phone use.  Check.

I checked in at the Marriott in Dayton, and realized when I got into the room that there was no MP3 player.  Since I was missing the Ok Go concert in Chicago on Saturday, I wanted to listen to WTF? or Invincible while getting ready, which I can't do with headphones on.  No iPod.  Check.

After the dinner on the first night, I got back up to my room at around 9 p.m. and thought I'd do a blog post.  I set up my laptop on the desk and tried to log on.  No connection.  I read the instructions on the WiFi connection on the desk and tried again.  No dice.  I called the front desk and inquired as to the whereabouts of my WiFi.  They gave me some instructions and again, no luck.  We prayed together on the phone.  Nothing.  At 10 p.m. the guy on the phone finally said, "I think we'll need to send a technician to your room, okay?"  

Hmmm.  
WiFi and potential rapist or Safety and TV?
 

 "Can I fit all of her body parts 

in this box and get it out 

of the Marriott undetected?"

"Send him up."

I had to have me some Internet.  Facebook doesn't check itself, people.

Nettie Hartsock's session was all about social media and networking, and she was pretty adamant that writers need to use Twitter.  I've had a Twitter account for about 6 months, but never really used it.  I thought it was just a cell phone thing, and since I wasn't a big fan of my phone, I thought I was out.  Well, I logged back in on Sunday, and now I am a big, fat Tweeter.  It's great, because I have nothing but free time and I know how much the world is DYING to know what I am doing in 140 characters or less.  And being such an introvert, this will help me get my thoughts and opinions out more.  People will be so glad to see me come out of my shell.  Give me a Holla! on Twitter, @juliethewife. 

"@tedbundy, let me out of the trunk."  If you see this post on Twitter, call the authorities.  I've forgotten how to dial my phone.

News Report From Dayton

WHO:  Me.  Again.
WHAT:  Undercover report from Erma Bombeck Writing Conference
WHERE:  Dayton, Ohio
WHEN: Friday, April 16, 11:38 p.m.
WHY:  Because the Bombecks are making me apologize.


Something you all need to know if you are going to read this blog - there are rules.  Actually there is one rule, and this is the ONLY rule on A Day In the Wife:  
Remember I am an entertainer, not an historian.
(As an aside, it always bothers me that it is grammatically correct to say "an" before historian, because I say the H.  I just want to state for the record that I WANT to say "A" historian, but my fingers, which do the actual typing, won't let me.)

I've met two of Erma Bombeck's children, Betsy and Matt, and her daughter-in-law and her granddaughter Eva, who, other than Oldest Daughter, is the smartest seventh grader I've ever met.  She is getting up, taking the microphone, and asking questions at the seminars!  It is so flippin' cute.  Erma would be proud.

So her family members pulled me aside today and said they heard about my 1960's housewife-LSD-Florence blog post, and they asked that I keep the conference classy by not saying such things are going on here.  (They didn't really say that, but I didn't feel like blogging about Jello molds tonight, so lying is easier than being creative.  You can always rely on the fact that I will lie to you, gentle reader.)

• FACT:  I'm at the Erma Bombeck Writing Conference in Dayton, OH.

• FACT:  It's actually a writing conference, with real writers and such.

• FACT:  No one is wearing polyester that I'm aware of, unless it's a blend.

• FACT:  I didn't tell anyone "That's how we do it in the Quad Cities", although I must admit that I'm DESPERATE to do so.

 So now that you have the facts, I am going to keep this classy and tell you what is really going on:  This is a total Cougar Fest.  The male authors are falling all over themselves to bed these older, experienced women, and I say "Why not?"  We have more experience sexually than most of them do, and hey, we're funny.  If we weren't funny, or had delusions we are funny, we wouldn't be here.  Funny women are confident women, and I found that male authors were constantly trying to punch their Cougar Card with me.


Case in point:   Mo Rocca.
Some of you know Mo from The Daily Show with Jon Stewart.  Some of you know Mo from PBS's Wishbone.  Some of you know him as a regular contributor to NPR's "Wait Wait Don't Tell Me" and CBS Sunday Morning.  Sunday Morning is here to purportedly film a bit for their show, but I think it's all a cover-up for their Cougar Hunting.

So Mo (I call him that now because we are friends) approached me and we had a conversation.  It became obvious he was totally hitting on me.  

MO:  "Hey, I graduated from Harvard the same year you graduated from Iowa State.  Isn't that cool?" 
ME:  "Um, sure.  How much have you made since you graduated?
MO:  "Probably around $200 million dollars.  How about you?"
ME:  "$1, 443.25.  But I've passed three human beings through my vagina."
MO:  "That is so hot.  I was totally drawn to your turkey gobbler chin.  Not all women have those.  May I put my arm around you and make an expression like you have a knife in my side, and then I will take you to your room in the Marriott and make sweet sweet love to you?"
ME:  "Sorry Mo, but the best thing I got from Iowa State was Current Husband. This cougar is taken.  But I would love to take a picture.  Do you mind if I pretend to look fatter than you?"
MO:  "Absolutely not.  I'm just sorry I'm 20 years too late."

Throwing my white person gang sign.

 Then I went to Christian Lander's seminar on his blog-to-book sensation, "Stuff White People Like".  He, too, tried to bed me, saying that he could tell I was a bit psychotic from my stalking of him, and that I seem to have a strangely attractive super-long thumb, but I shut him down as well, saying that CH is the only 5'9" man I need.

 He is throwing Canadian gang signs, I am throwing white person gang signs.  Blogger Danny Gallagher is in the back, playing the part of the guy who pops up in photos and makes Muppet faces.

Then I met the mayor of Dayton, Ohio, who heard I was in town and came to formally welcome me by buying two Blue Moons and getting me slightly inebriated for the conference dinner.  Apparently they try to get everyone intoxicated, thus the town slogan, "Get Drunk in Dayton".

 The Mayor of Dayton also throws white gang signs.

Okay, this is actually one of my sorority sisters from the Chi O house at Iowa State.  Isn't it cool that she's the mayor of Dayton, Ohio?  Today was "Casual Day" in city government, part of the budget cutting procedures.  That, and firing teachers.  The gentleman behind us is giving himself the Heimlich maneuver, but the Mayor saw his suffering and ran over and saved his life.  It was a truly inspirational moment.

So that is the scoop.  I have three more seminars tomorrow, and then I drive back to the Quad Cities, bringing all of the culture and knowledge I can steal from Dayton, Ohio, and delivering it back to Iowa.  It's like taking candy from a baby.

It's NOT Whoreticulture Friday!

WHO:  Me.  Duh.
WHAT:  Undercover report from Erma Bombeck Writing Conference
WHERE:  Dayton, Ohio
WHEN:  Thursday, April 15, 11 p.m.
WHY:  These bitches are crazy with a capital K.

So I sign up for the Erma Bombeck Writing Conference last December because I love Erma Bombeck and I think "Hey, maybe I can learn something.  Like how to write." but what I really think is "Hey, maybe there will be a famous author there I can stalk!" and it turns out there is!  Christian Lander, who writes the blog "Stuff White People Like" and wrote his book by the same name from the blog, is here.  And I will find him.  Oh yes.  Yes I will.  Photo soon.

Erma was a trailblazer.  She wrote about how being a housewife can be a real pain in the ass, way back in the day when everyone wanted to be June Cleaver and Doris Day.  While that kind of thinking is very commonplace today, Erma was taking a real risk saying it back in the 1960's.  Women smiled, wore dresses and heels and full makeup to do laundry, kept the kids clean and orderly and gave Hubby a drink when he walked in the door to the smell of roast.  Erma said, "No one ever died from an unmade bed".  That's the kind of thinking I can get behind.

You go, Erma!

So I check in at the conference, and it turns out IT ISN'T ABOUT WRITING AT ALL.  It's about actually BEING Erma Bombeck.  We spent the first hour getting our 1960's name and polyester house dresses and giving each other bouffant hairdos.  We were seated, and told that the winner from the weekend would get to continue writing her column in the Dayton Daily Tribune and do her adult children's laundry.  My name for the conference is Donna Farlowe.

We then had a "Family Bitch-Off", where we were supposed to complain about our families and how our teenagers all had attitude and just want the keys to the car.   I thought I was in the running for the win, but Florence Miller took the prize by loudly complaining about how her husband doesn't do anything around the house and always wants to climb into her twin bed for "relations".

I would've been okay with Florence's win, but when she walked past my table, she looked down at me through blue shadowed lids, flipped her frosted hair and said, "And that's how we do it in Akron, bitch.  And?  Your shoes and purse don't match."   Everyone at our table looked at me and said, "Ooooh!"  I looked down at my bridge hand and muttered, "I'll Erma your Bombeck, Florence Miller, just you wait."  And then, when she was trying to subtly pull up her nylons, I slipped a tab of LSD into her Tom Collins.  When I last saw Florence, she was naked and singing the chorus from "Hair".  And THAT's how we do it in the Quad Cities, FLO.

I have to get to bed, because in the morning we are fresh-squeezing orange juice and doing Anita Bryant impressions, the Jello mold competition should be a killer (to grape or not to grape?), and I still need to put rollers in my hair.

I'll try to report tomorrow night, but I think we have a "mixer" until 11:30 p.m.

Dutifully submitted,
The Wife